Prayer Vision Tour - Part Three

["bobbismisko" <bobbismisko@erols.com>]

Have Prayer; Will Travel!

Part Three:

As Yoni, Chloe, and I continued our Prayer Vision Tour in the former Soviet
Union, we heard similar stories; only the names and faces were changed.
(Actually, many of the names were the same!  So many Olgas, Volodyes,
Tamaras, Ninas, Sergeis, and Sashas that I had trouble keeping them straight
in my thinking!)  There was a consistent cry for decent jobs with decent
pay, and in many cases, any job at all.  The economy has taken a real hit
with the fall of communism and the change to capitalism has been a rough
road to travel.  With little in place to help the transition, the people are
struggling merely to survive.

In spite of all their problems, what struck me over and over again was their
spirit of hope and their beautiful gift of hospitality, which I found in my
travels throughout Russia, Ukraine, Romania, and Slovakia.  They had so
little and yet they gave so much.  Whether it was being the recipient of the
favorite seat in their parlors, the best of the food at their tables, or the
fullness of their loving hearts, their genuine desire to please me and grant
me comfort and ease, in spite of their own suffering, was forever evident.
I carry the image of their radiant smiles and the feel of their warm
embraces deep within my memory, and I lift them before our Lord and ask for
His mercy, grace, and abundance in their lives.  Lord, grant them peace, and
reward them for their loving kindnesses to three women of prayer who were
strangers in their midst.

There was a different "feel" in my encounters with government employees and
airport personnel.  I sensed some of the old regime thinking as they treated
me in a terse, hostile or sometimes purely indifferent manner.  There was no
place for the little kindnesses afforded a stranger in their midst.  One was
expected to figure out how to get around without the language on one's own.
We were blessed over and over again by the missionaries who paved the way
for us by meeting us or delivering us to the airports and translating for us
whenever necessary.  On only one occasion did I have a real problem and that
was in the Kiev airport.  The missionary, Cliff Wright, was not permitted to
help me with my five-weeks' worth of luggage as I was leaving alone to
journey on to a three-week Romanian visit.  As I struggled to leverage my
largest case up onto the scanning device, with Cliff Wright looking on
helplessly from behind the counter, a stranger reached out a hand to assist
me.  Together we managed the task.  As I gave him my most congenial smile
and whispered "Spasi ba!," I recognized afresh that God provides!

Of the four cities (St. Petersburg, Moscow, Volgograd, and Kiev) we visited,
for some reason I felt the least safe in Volgograd.  It was not something I
saw, but rather something I felt that made me uneasy.  I mentioned my
feeling to Lonnie Norris, the missionary there.  He seemed to hesitate for a
moment before answering, but he did acknowledge that at times there were
things that happened in that beautiful city which were a bit unnerving.  For
instance, a couple of weeks before our arrival, two underground
moneychangers, with whom he was acquainted, had been murdered - right
outside our hotel!  Needless to say, we went nowhere on our own, but hung
close to each other - and the missionaries.

In order to reach our next city, Kiev in the Ukraine, we needed to fly from
Volgograd back to Moscow and then take an overnight train to finish the
journey.  Another interesting incident occurred as we were boarding the
little Moscow-bound "puddle-jumper," which had the capacity to hold
approximately twenty-five passengers.  As I climbed the steep steps from the
tarmac up to the plane, slower-boarding passengers ahead of me caused me to
halt near the top.  A man in a dark suit carrying a briefcase in his left
hand with a raincoat slung over his right arm was immediately behind me.  I
could not miss him as he was so close I could feel his body heat behind me.
(Eastern Europeans have minimal need for personal space.)

Suddenly I realized that he was pressing into me. He must have missed the
step on the very steep incline. I turned around to find him sliding in a
slow motion over the left side of the railing. He seemed unable to pull
himself upright, probably because he did not want to drop the things in his
arms. Without a second thought, I reached over the railing and grabbed him
under the arms, lifted him upright, and set him back on the step below me.
At that point, I realized that this European male would probably be
embarrassed at having a mere woman help him, so I abruptly turned forward
again as though nothing had happened. Immediately I felt him lean into my
shoulder and whisper "Spasi ba!," which is Russian for "thank you!" It was
at that point that I smelled the strong odor of alcohol and suspected the
reason for his fall!

I took a razzing from Yoni and Chloe after that as they encouraged me again
and again to tell how I "picked the man up" in Volgograd!  Since that phrase
usually has other connotations, I was always quick to explain! The amazing
thing to me after the fact was that I could have done such a thing - me with
the weak back!   I could barely lift my own luggage never mind a grown man!
Whether it was an adrenaline surge or God's providence, I am sure that
Russian man was just grateful to be safe!

We arrived in Moscow and were met by Volodye, who whisked us off to Chuck
and Carla Sunberg's for a quick dinner before returning us to the train
station for our overnight journey to Kiev.  I never ceased to be amazed at
how Carla kept track of all the comings and goings of the myriad number of
guests in her care.  She planned our entire schedule inside the CIS as well
as doing so for several other groups who were there at the same time.  The
CIS missionaries are blessed to have Chuck and Carla caring for and praying
for them as they serve in that part of the world.  I sensed that the CIS
team has become "family" to each other.  What a blessing - to them - and to
God!


To be continued . . .